Down Once More
by LudivinePHlover
Summary: Andre has rebuilt the Opera House and has successfully cast almost everyone he needs... All, that is, but the Prima Donna! Also, Is the Phantom still lurking in the depths? What shall become of the remaining cast and crew?
1. Whose is That Voice?

**Chapter One – Whose is That Voice?**

"No, no, absolutely not! NEXT!" A young woman in tears fled past M. Andre as he dismissed her. The search for a new "prima donna" had gone frustratingly slow, even to the point that it was almost maddening. "Does no one here have an ounce of talent to spare? And where is the next girl I called for?" Andre threw his hands up in frustration as he walked backstage. Meg Giry quickly made her way to his side and laid a gentle hand on his arm.

"Please, sir, there are no more auditioning women," she stated in that thin voice of hers.

"Well, good, then – perhaps tomorrow will bring some talent." Meg cringed as she prepared to give him the bad news.

"Sir, that's all there is on the roster. May I remind you, half of them ran away when a stagehand accidentally dropped a set of cymbals. Perhaps we should try auditioning in a different city?" Andre turned and took hold of Meg's shoulders.

"My dear, you **are** a genius! What a perfectly splendid idea! Tomorrow, we begin auditioning in neighboring cities. For now, everyone should get some sleep. Rehearsal begins tomorrow, only without the leading lady. You may live here, as is traditional, or you may go home." Immediately, everyone began gathering their things and moving toward the door – no one dared sleep in the Opera House when the Opera Ghost may still be lurking in its shadows.

Just as the mass reached the door, a high soprano voice was heard coming from outside.

_No thoughts within her head_

_But thoughts of joy,_

_No dreams within her heart_

_But dreams of night…_

The entire cast held their breath as a young, redheaded chorus girl approached Andre, who was oblivious to the singing which sounded so much like that familiar voice of Christine Daae's…

Monsieur, perhaps we do not need to audition in other cities," implored the young woman, her hands folded. Andre looked up at her, confused. "sir, someone's singing outside…" Meg Giry ran down the aisle to Andre.

"She sounds like Christine…" Andre bolted out of his chair and quickly walked to the double doors of the entrance in the foyer. With his hands on the large ornate handles of the doors, he listened as the high soprano voice continued to sing, now in a deeper, richer tone.

_Past all thought_

_Of right or wrong -_

_One final question : _

_How long should we two wait_

_Before we're one?_

_When will the blood begin to race,_

_The sleeping bud_

_Burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last_

_Consume us?_

Andre could not simply stand and listen any longer. With a great heave, he threw the massive doors open to reveal to whom the voice belonged…

A/N: Umm… read and review! Please pretty please with a cherry and anchovies on top!


	2. Sing, Prima Donna

**Chapter Two – Sing, Prima Donna**

Andre, the entire cast and crew behind him, looked upon the face to whom the voice belonged. It was a young woman, in her late teens, Andre assumed, with shoulder-length brunette hair. Her skin was somewhat pale, but it only served to bring to light her bright green eyes and perfectly formed singer's mouth. Her eyes were naturally large; now, they were even larger in surprise at being caught.

Andre burst from the crowd and stood facing the young woman. Both stood staring at each other in silence for a moment before Andre finally spoke.

"You – are you the one who was singing? Just now – singing _Don Juan Triumphant!_?"

"Y-yes, I was… I'm so sorry, did I disturb you? I didn't know anyone was in there. I- what are you doing?" The young woman was startled as Andre grabbed her wrist rather roughly and pulled her behind him into the Opera House. Down the aisle he dragged her, and thrust her onto the stage. The crowd of cast and crew followed, no one bothering to close the doors. The young woman looked frightened as Andre positioned her at down center stage. He walked off the stage and sat in the seating area. He nodded to the young woman.

"Sing. This is your audition." The young woman took a step back, surprised.

"Audition? What… what should I sing?" she asked.

"Anything," retorted Andre, his patience quickly dwindling. "Sing what you were singing earlier – Aminita's part from _Don Juan Triumphant!_ will be suitable. Now, from 'No thoughts…'" The young woman cleared her throat gently and stepped forward. Suddenly, her clear, high voice filled the auditorium as she began to sing.

_No thoughts within her head_

_But thoughts of joy!_

_No dreams within her heart_

_But dreams of love…_

The cast and crew fell silent as they listened to the voice which so resembled the pure voice of Christine Daae. Andre stood and once again addressed the young woman on stage.

Now, Aminita's part in _The Point of No Return_, from 'you have brought me…'" andre reclaimed his seat and signaled for her to begin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She focused, and as her lips parted the sweet music, which had been written fo Mademoiselle Daae, flowed forth once again.

_You have brought me_

_To that moment where words run dry,_

_To that moment where speech disappears_

_Into silence…_

_Silence…_

The young woman suddenly let go of her inhibitions and began to move around the stage as if imploring some invisible person to join her, her voice now strong and sure.

_I have come here,_

_Hardly knowing the reason why…_

_In my mind I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining,_

_Defenseless and silent – _

_And now I am here with you:_

_No second thoughts, _

_I've decided…_

_Decided…_

Now, as she became lost in the music, she was no longer aware of the presence of others in the Opera House. She began twirling about the stage madly in a passionate, heated Spanish dance which she had seen only one – years ago, at the production of _Don Juan Triumphant!_ which had ended so fatefully.

_Past the point of no return – _

_No going back now:_

_Our passion-play has now,_

_At last, begun…_

_Past all though of right or wrong –_

_One final question:_

_How long should we two wait_

_Before we're one…?_

_When will the blood begin to race,_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last_

_Consume us…?_

Now, although there was no man on stage to dance with her, or to hold her, she sang as if the role of Don Juan was fulfilled, her actions indicating some unseen man behind her performing the duet.

_Past the point of no return,_

_The final threshold –_

_The bridge is crossed,_

_So stand and watch it burn…_

_We've passed the point of no return…_

The young woman, now far upstage, stood silently leaning against her invisible partner, oblivious to her surroundings. The redheaded chorus girl approached the dumbstruck Andre and lightly touched his shoulder. As he acknowledged her, she nodded back to the entrance to the Opera House, where scores of people had crowded into the foyer and were spilling out onto the steps and up into the far rear of the auditorium. Leading them was Monsieur Firmin. Everyone was staring at the young womanwho seemed to be in some sort of trance onstage. After three minutes of tremulous silence, M. Firmin broke it with a slow, steady clap, and was slowly joined by M. Andre, then Meg, then the redheaded chorus girl, and eventually the rest of the crowd, comprised mainly of former patrons and the attendants of Carlotta Giudicelli and Ubaldo Piangi. The young woman, hearing the applause, came back to reality and, after a moment of confusion, realized that the the applause… was for her!

Far below the stage, a very different audience applauded for the voice above. A rich voice, not too unlike a chocolate soufflé, uttered but one word:

"Christine…"


	3. My Triumph

Chapter 3: My Triumph

Below, far below the Opera Populaire, a man darted from the now-broken stained glass panel where he was hiding. A swish of a tattered cloak concealed him from the light streaming in from a hole somewhere above. The man quickly made his way down even farther below, to the once magnificent catacombs. Impatient, he leapt into a waiting gondola and used to oar to push the boat through the dark waters. He ignored the relics in the walls as he moved faster than he had in years towards the damned lair hidden deep within the catacombs. As he entered, a portcullis closed behind him and he continued to propel the boat towards the deck. Unable to contain his excitement any longer, he threw himself over the edge of the gondola and waded to the stairs leading to his lair.

Flinging the tattered and torn cloak aside, the man took a seat at his organ and excitedly began playing. As his little, dirty fingers caressed the dusty keys, years of pain and despair seemed to lift from the man's scarred face. Life came back to his saddened eyes, a smile to his roughened lips. A pleased sigh escaped his mouth.

"She's come back to me – my Angel of Music……. Christine…" A sweet melody, new to the depths, played out on the organ as he poured out his joy at what he thought was the return of this only love he had ever known. As he played the last note, he rose and ran across the lair to find the wax replica of Christine Daae. A tear of happiness found its way down his deformed cheek as his hand brushed the cheek of the model. He gazed into the eyes of the girl who had once loved him and imagined the wonders he would show her after he once again found her… But wait – that would mean she would have to see him and his lair…. The man looked first at his lair and then at himself in the broken mirror. He finally realized how filthy he had become after two years of depression, and how disposing the lair now was after two years of neglect. Rats had even stopped coming through the portcullis after the man stopped eating enough to leave crumbs sufficient to feed the rats' colony. Shattered glass still littered one side of the the lair, the bed had not been made in years. Pools of wax adorned every surface which once held candles that had not been renewed since they had burned themselves to extinction. Dirt and dust had accumulated not only in every corner, but also on nearly every surface.

As for the man himself – he was extremely gaunt from the lack of adequate diet. His raven hair had grown long, and was greasy and dirty from years without wash. His clothes were torn and he had not changed them since the night Christine had left him. After a moment of consideration, the man began to dart about the place, cleaning, discarding, and straightening. He replaced the candles, swept away the glass, and up righted things which had been thrown or knocked over in his rage. Gathering papers and cloth from the water surrounding the dock, he saw a strange object floating, and stooped to pick it up. A familiar length of rope now lie in his hands – rope twisted and tied into… "The Punjab lasso…" whispered the man. He regarded it silently for a moment. "It – and its kind – must never be used in this opera house again. This is what drove Christine away..." Opening the portcullis, he flung the rope far from his lair, assuming that it would shortly meet its watery grave.

…

The young woman's face quickly turned a furious shade of red. She moved back downstage, all smiles, and gave a graceful curtsey to the crowd which was pouring into the auditorium. The redhead rushed up onto the stage and took the young woman's hand.

"M. Andre says he wants to cast you! However…. No one seems to know your name." The young woman, startled, glanced at Andre, who was simultaneously smiling, nodding, and clapping. M. Firmin took his accustomed place next to Andre and applauded, shouting "Brava! Brava! Bellisima! Encore!" The young woman turned back to the redhead.

"My name……is Ludavine Juliette, but …..Pardon me for asking, but what am I to be cast for, ma'am?" The redhead laughed. "Please, don't call me ma'am. I'm just a chorus girl and ballet rat. My name is Kathleen, but mostly everyone calls me Kathy. And…"she looked incredulously at Ludivine, "You truly don't know what part M. Andre wants you to fulfill?" Ludivine shook her head, completely oblivious to Kathy's hinting. Kathy never got the chance to tell Ludivine the role she was to be assigned to, for at that moment, a crowd member stepped forward, applauding madly. He was a prominent member of society, wealthy, and a former patron of the Opera Populaire.

"Brava! Prima Donna, Brava!" He cheered, directing it toward Ludivine. She paled, even further and her eyes widened as she realized, finally, the position which she had auditioned for. As the shock wore off, color came back into her cheeks. Kathy took Ludivine in an embrace.

"Congratulations!" she whispered as Ludivine looked at the crowd and smiled. "Now go give them a bow!" Kathy gently pushed Ludivine forward; Ludivine took several steps toward the edge of the stage, slowly, and very gracefully. She took the corners of her simple black dress in her fingers and gave the audience a deep beautiful curtsey.

…

As the man cleaned the inner recesses of his lair, he uncovered, still folded and neatly placed upon a chest, a dress. This simple item brought tears to his eyes as he picked it up and gently brushed the accumulated dust from the fabric. His long pianist's fingers danced gently over the black material, the white linen… they found the red fabric rose tucked inside the folds. Holding it a moment longer, he reminisced.

"Aminita's costume…" and he unfolded it with a snap. His eyes glittering with anticipation,"…Christine will want this returned to her…"

A/N: YAY! REVEWS! SO, reply I shall...

Maska: Yep, I like cliffhangers. I AM EVIL CLIFFHANGER AUTHOR! FEEL MY MIGHT!

romawriter: Here ya go!

Ludivinelover: MUFFINS!

Thanks to all!


	4. He's With Us, He's a Ghost

Chapter 4: He's with us, He's a Ghost

After the applause had subsided and numerous members of the crowd had congratulated Ludivine for her "exquisite voice," M. Andre and M. Firmin took the young woman aside. When the audience protested the spiriting away of the young talent, Andre announced. "Really, we must steal her for a little while to discuss her employment." At this, the crowd cheered, for every one of the former patrons agreed that this voice was far better than Carlotta Gindicelli's and was a fitting replacement for Christine Daae's. Firmin now stepped forward, making an announcement himself. "And to discuss the resuming of my management position." Andre looked at Firmin in surprise; this was something he had not expected. Ludivine, on the other hand, was smiling broadly at Firmin. She was glad to have him back… also; the thrill of being cast at the Opera Populaire was still with her. The two men linked arms and assumed a brisk pace towards their office, reminiscing about "old times." Ludivine fell behind them so as not to interrupt their spirited conversation. When in the manager's office, the three went over policies, employment, rehearsals, and, to the delight of Ludivine, salaries. When all was said and done, she signed where she was told to. Andre and Firmin each took hold of an arm and led her to the stairs in the foyer. She stood, frightened but pleased, as the two men garnered the attention of the crowd with yet another announcement. They gave a great flourish, then "Ladies and gentlemen, our new Prima Donna!" The crowd gave a great cheer, and Firmin attempted frantically to regain control for his next announcement. Finally, the crowd quieted. "And, for her debut performance, as well as the opening Opera for the renewed Opera Populaire, we are proud to present Don Juan Triumphant!" The crowd remained silent for a moment, thinking they had not heard correctly. When they all realized that the opening of the opera was indeed the very same as the last seen in this Opera House, the infamous "Phantom's Opera," a great uproar occurred. Everyone was discussing the possibilities of this decision and remembered the disaster that had happened last time. Andre and Firmin descended the stairs to "mingle" with the crowd. Ludivine found herself, in essence, alone. There were people all around her, yet she was somehow alone. Not knowing what else to do, she turned and entered the auditorium. Noticing no one in that room, she dashed up to the stage. Wandering around the sets, she ran her hand along the familiar scenery, letting memories overcome her as she had so many times since that fateful evening… Ludivine recalled the brilliance of the phantom's opera. It was unlike anything she had seen before and, so she believed, would never see again. The sensual Spanish opera had opened her eyes to the soul of the legendary Phantom of the Opera, and had instilled in her own soul an unknown passion for an unknown man… At least, he has been unknown until the actor playing the role of Don Juan had been replaced with another. This masked man had the voice of an angel and had put so much emotion into his song that Ludivine knew that this could only be the infamous Opera Ghost, the man for whom Mademoiselle Daae had been the object of great love and obsession.

Alas, Ludivine also remembered that the man who had already captured her soul had plunged with the young singer to his lair. Ludivine had been occupied, but later had questioned those who had formed a mob, always getting the same response – neither the Phantom of the Opera nor Christine Daae had been found. The Vicomte de Chagny had not been found either, and it was commonly though that the Phantom had taken both far away, killing the Vicomte and forcing Mademoiselle Daae to take him as her husband. Meg Giry often shuddered to think of what horrors have befallen Christine, her best friend, on the night of the fateful wedding.

Ludivine could still vividly recall every movement the Faux Don Juan had made, the quickening of her heart and shortened of breath… however, she could not recall the face behind the mask – another patron had stood up just as it had happened, blocking her view. The next thing she knew, everyone was screaming…

"Mademoiselle Juliette?" a soft, timid voice invaded her thoughts. "Mademoiselle?" the voice snapped her out of her reverie. She turned, and was surprised – no, appalled at where she found herself… atop the tall piece from Don Juan Triumphant! The voice was coming from the stage below, and belonged to a familiar face. It was Meg Giry. Ludivine quickly descended the steps to obtain the same level as the ballerina.

"Mademoiselle Giry, I'm sorry. I didn't… I just wanted to get away..." Ludivine was frantic to explain herself, and thus took no notice of Meg's smile. Meg laid a gentle hand on Ludivine's shoulder. "Please, just call me Meg. And don't be dory – we all long to escape the throng from time to time. I actually came to find you, so that I may tell you something…" Ludivine had calmed at the gentle voice – Very unlike her mother's, she thought. "May we sit down, if it will take some time?" Ludivine inquired. Meg nodded approval.

"Where do you wish to sit?"

"Box five." Meg gasped and went wide-eyed at Ludivine's choice, but began to slowly make her way to Box Five nonetheless. They walked the length in silence. After Meg had shut the door behind them, she signaled to Ludivine to take a seat. Ludivine obeyed, and looked up at Meg questioningly and with a frightened look on her face. Meg saw this and glided into the seat next to her and took her hands in her own.

"Oh, Mademoiselle, I did not mean to frighten you! There are simply a few things I think you should know about…the Opera House." Ludivine grinned, thinking she knew what Meg was referring to. "You mean the Phantom of the Opera." Meg cringed at Ludivine's nonchalant response. "I know, I was there the night he disappeared. No one has seen him, Mademoiselle Daae, or le Vicomte de Chagny since. I only wish..." She trailed off and cast a longing glance around the Phantom's Box.

"Yes?"

"I only wish that I may have met him. And that he hadn't left…" A now-familiar, yet strange pain came to her heart when she said that, although she did not know why. Meg had been afraid that Ludivine would respond that way. She squeezed Ludivine's hands urgently.

"Listen to me, Mademoiselle Juliette…"

"Ludivine, please…" Meg sighed.

"Ludivine, then – Listen to me! He's not what you think he is. He's murderer! He feels no guilt in killing innocent stagehands or kidnapping young women. Ubaldo Piangi was murdered simply so that the Phantom could take his place on stage, next to Christine. He has no remorse, no thought for anybody's wishes other than his own! And, unfortunately," Meg glanced about, continuing in a whisper, "He never left!" Ludivine's eyes widened, and she stood, a smile on her face.

"Then he and Mademoiselle Daae are still here? Under the Opera House?"

"No! He let Christine and the Vicomte go. They went north, keeping contact only with me. But the phantom is still here – and I'm afraid of what will happen now that you're here." Ludivine looked puzzled, so Meg took a breath in an attempt to calm herself and explained, "You see, sometimes one can hear his voice calling from the depths. Only one word…"

"Christine," Ludivine guessed.

"Yes, in a long, dreadful, depressed moan. He still loves her, you see… And you – your voice – it sounds just like…"

"Christine Daae's…"

"Oh, please Ludivine," Meg implored, seeing the glint in her new friend's eyes, "please, don't go looking for him! Swear to me – swear it on my crucifix – that you will not go looking for the Phantom of the Opera!" Ludivine placed a hand on the small silver crucifix hanging from Meg's necklace.

"I swear." Reassured, Meg stood and unlocked the door of Box Five.

"Come, then – let us go meet your fans." Ludivine smiled and followed Mg to the foyer, where the impromptu gathering had turned into a social event, with Opera House staff now wandering around with refreshments. The atmosphere was one of gaiety and renewed hope.

_I won't go looking for him… but I won't prevent him from finding me… _


	5. Angel, I Hear You!

A/N: okeey, first of all, NOONE IS READING LIGHT IS BLIND! That's my fiancee's story (well, both of ours, really). He's ludivinelover. So go read and review him, he's veddy sad. Now for the review-replies: 

**RubyMoon2**: Thanx for the compliment! Yesh, she's veddy Mary Sue-ish. Sorry 'bout tha'... No, she had rich grandparents who recently died and she was swindled out of their fortune by ruthless bankers and the like cuz she's underage... going off of my problem - can't read music, so the ability to memorize is greatly enhanced. Also, when you practically live on a song, it tends to be implanted in your brain. Sorry about 'the spell' being broken. As for your reviews on the poems... I'm glad you like the style. Thanks for being so frank with me. Grr... I HATE it when ppl quote Erik to me (especially when it's the version I HAVEN'T read (yet...) You say Ja Ne! ANIMEEEEEEEEE! woow... long reply...

**clintongroth**: Thanx. Ummm... WHY must you torture us about Light is Blind? Go look at your "porno" pics... Freakin' Geez... :)

* * *

Chapter 5: Angel, I Hear You! 

"Are you quite sure?"

"You don't want us to escort you?"

"No, no monsieur's. I'm quite all right, I assure you. I simply wish to become accustomed to my new… surroundings… before retiring for the evening." Ludivine was having a time ridding herself of her overprotective managers. They had been following her every since her "disappearance," from which Meg Giry had rescued her. After reassuring Andre and Firmin that she would be safe and in no health risk to escort herself home, she finally sent the two on their way to celebrate their good fortune.

Making it a point to avoid the chorus girls and ballet rats, Ludivine began to explore the backstage areas. She gave herself a tour of all the places which held some significance for her – places in which an event, or events, concerning the Phantom had occurred. The catwalks, the set piece for Don Juan in which Ubaldo Piangi had been murdered, and, of course, Box Five again – all served as entertainment for the better part of five hours as she meticulously and thoroughly examined each location. Her guest finally brought her to her new dressing room – the same as had been used by Christine Daae on the night of her abduction.

She had heard that something had happened in this room. Ludivine knew that somehow the Opera Ghost had locked the Vicomte out and had abducted Mademoiselle Daae without ever entering or leaving through the only door. Now, she finally had the chance to find the truth. She stood with bated breath as she laid her hand on the door knob and gently turned it. She slowly turned it until she felt the lock slide from its holster. Tentatively, she pushed the door open, staring into the dark, unlit depths of her dressing room. Hesitating, she moved a quivering foot over the threshold of that place which had, for so long, haunted her imagination. Here she was… she would solve this; her personal quest would be fulfilled. She lit the gas lamps throughout the room. After light blazed throughout the area, she observed her surroundings and gasped. Everything had been left the way it was – even Christine's hair ribbons and stationary were still there. Ludivine moved, dazedly, throughout the room, gently touching every artifact within reach.

Her fingers brushed against the stationary, and she gasped as she saw the blood-red rose, tied with a black velvet ribbon. She had heard that this was his trademark, the Opera Ghost's sign that he had been there. She picked it up and held it to her face, savoring first the scent of the flower, then that of the ribbon. Her fingers lingered over it for a while longer before she saw the envelope.

It was lying next to a bundle of folded black fabric. The envelope was of parchment, unaddressed. Ludivine told herself that the envelope was not necessarily from him. It could very well be a letter from one of the managers, or a reminder for fittings. With a shaking hand, she laid the rose back in its resting place and picked up the envelope. The wax death's head seal on the back confirmed her suspicions – it could only be the Opera Ghost! Ludivine nearly tore the parchment; her hands were shaking so excitedly. Carefully, she pried the last of the seal loose and lifted the flap. She pulled the note from inside, set the envelope down, and opened the note.

_Today, my dear,_

_I heard your voice._

_It shed so – needed light upon my dark existence._

_You can not imagine how I have hoped for your singular voice to bring me back to life. Here is your dress – I hope to see you in it soon, my Angel of Music._

_Always your Humble Servant,_

_The Opera Ghost_

Ludivine's heart leapt. And was pounding so hard that she could hardly believe it was not bursting from her chest. The Phantom of the Opera had heard her! And what wonderful things he had said about her voice… Angel of Music? That sounded strangely familiar. Why couldn't she place it? It was lurking at the edge of her mind…

Then there was that small, nagging feeling. It seemed to be warning Ludivine of something… What that something was, however, she could not tell. Her senses, typically clear as glass, were clouded by the sheer thrill of correspondence from the Opera Ghost. She picked up the dress and, shedding her own, donned the concoction of soft black fabric and crisp white linen. She found the hair decoration and out that on as well. Ludivine looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the dress over her legs. She frowned. Something was missing. Casting about the room, she spotted the rose and smiled. Ludivine, taking the velvet ribbon from the emerald stem, made herself a necklace. She tied it tight around her thin neck, viewed herself in the mirror, and, finally satisfied, took the rose with her to the chaise. She took the blankets draped over it and laid down, pulling them over her. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of the rose, which was pressed to her cheek, and the dress, which she was sure had been handled by the Phantom of the Opera.

Ludivine's last thought before she surrendered to sleep was that almost all of her hopes had come true… now all that remained was to meet the Ghost.

Hours later, the lamps had burned down, leaving the dressing room cloaked in darkness. A tiny click came from the door as a key turned the lock from the outside. Ludivine turned in her sleep, but did not wake shortly after, a whisper could be heard throughout the room, once again but one word:

"Christine…"

The gaunt man from below the Opera approached the reverse side of the mirror through a secret passage ablaze with light, violin and bow in hand. As he reached the great slab of glass, his love's name slipped unwillingly from his lips in a whisper. Peering through the clear back of the mirror, he looked upon the sleeping form whose back was turned towards him. The man took a breath, realizing he had been holding it, and raised the violin to its accustomed place at his shoulder. As he gently ran the bow across the strings, a familiar tune began to spring forth, a cherished song poured from his lips.

Ludivine quietly drifted out of sleep as a sweet melody surrounded her, an angelic voice stirring her soul.

"_Wandering child,_

_So lost, so hopeless,_

_Yearning for my guidance…"_

Ludivine, still at the threshold of dream and reality, responded to the enticing voice breathlessly.

"_Angel or Phantom,_

_Friend or genius,_

_Who is it there, singing?_

The man did not understand the change of words, but continued to sing nonetheless.

"_Have you forgotten_

_Your Angel…?"_

Ludivine could not resist the voice which had grown more hypnotic, and sang to her Angel of Music.

"_Angel, ok, speak!_

_What endless longings_

_Echo in this whisper…"_

She rose, and began to wander throughout the room in a trance, searching for her Angel. Once again the man's voice poured throughout the room.

"_Too long you've wandered in winter,_

_Far from my far-reaching gaze…"_

Ludivine was so mesmerized now that she felt nothing but her soul singing, flying…

"_Willing, my mind_

_Beats against me…"_

The man did not understand why his Angel did not approach the mirror. Surely she could not have forgotten all that had happened between them? Still, he felt compelled to sing.

"_You resist,"_

Now, the dressing room filled with both their voices:

"_Yet your I let my_

_Soul obeys…"_

The man let himself be seen in the mirror, yet the girl seemed so enraptured that she did not notice. Her eyes were closed, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks, arms raised, imploring her newfound Angel to take her…

"_Angel of Music,_

_She denied you,_

_Turning from true beauty!_

_Angel of Music, _

_Hide no longer!_

_Come to me,_

_Strange Angel!"_

It was then that she turned her face enough so that the man could see her face. This young woman with the voice of Christine was not his love! He stood, speechless, as he realized that his love had not come back for him, that he was still as alone as ever. He watched as the young woman collapsed at his feet. With barely a sympathetic glance towards the crumpled form before him, he turned and, with a dramatic swish of his cape, disappeared.

Ludivine's eyes fluttered as a sound woke her from her sleep. As she listened, she could discern organ music being played furiously. It came from far away, accompanied by a long, anguished moan:

"Christine! My Angel, come back! Christine…"

It was then that Ludivine realized that the voice had believed she was Christine.

"The Angel of Music… is the Phantom of the Opera…" she whispered before exhaustion once again overcame her.


	6. Garish Light of Day

A/N: RubyMoon2, you're gonna hate me. It get even more... well, whatever it was that you don't like.  


Chapter 6: Garish Light of Day

"Ludivine? Ludivine!" Meg's frightened voice echoed throughout the dressing room as the young dancer rushed in, clutching a key and wearing only a thin dance skirt and leotard, along with her customary ballet shoes. She seemingly floated over to Ludivine and descended on the crumbled form with all the grace of a dove. She was followed closely by the managers and Kathy, all worried–looking and flustered. Ludivine slowly awoke, her eyes opening on the worried face of Meg.

Still in a dreamlike torpor, her gaze drifted from the dancer to Kathy to the managers, and back to Meg. Meg asked for some privacy; and the others complied. They left the room, quietly closing the door behind them.

"This dress… how did you get it?" Meg questioned. Ludivine fell silent for a moment, then looked up at her friends with large, glassy eyes.

"When I came in last night, it was here waiting for me…" Her mind was still distracted and her thought trailed off. Meg was alarmed at the change in Ludivine. Her gaze drifted to the chaise, where the blanket and rose still lay"Did you… sleep here?" Meg asked, and Ludivine nodded slowly. Meg moved to the chaise and picked up the blood-red rose, cradling it cautiously in her hand. "And this did it have a ribbon; A black velvet ribbon?" Ludivine's hand drifted dreamily up to her neck, her fingers caressing the soft ribbon there.

"Ludivine, no! Do you know who that is from?"

"The Phantom of the Opera…" Lidivine murmured,

"A murderer!"

"A tragic lover… a deep poetic soul whom no one understands and all fear…" At this, Meg pulled Ludivine up by her shoulders, tearing her hand away from the ribbon.

"Ludivine… Look at me!" She said this with such force that it demanded Ludivine's attention. "Did he come to you? Last night, as you slept, did the Opera Ghost visit you?" Ludivine shook her head. "Only his voice…" she said, recalling that beautiful, soul-raising voice which has filled the room and awakened her soul, causing her to fly…

"Oh my God…" Meg whispered. "Ludivine, why did you sleep here? Why didn't you go home?" Ludivine cast a glance about the room, and then leaned closer to Meg.

"I… I have no home," she whispered to her friend. "I've been living on the streets for the past six months… So you can see why I was thrilled to be cast at the Opera… Oh, Meg, please," Ludivine implored, her large eyes teary, "Please don't tell anyone! I'm afraid I'll be dropped and all I've wanted for so long is to be part of the Opera House, and now I have that and I don't want to lose it…" Ludivine was crying now, large tears falling down her pale cheeks. Meg took her friend in an embrace in an attempt to calm her.

"Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. And… according to my mother, you're right about him. The Phantom of the Opera – he is a deep soul who only wants love and who only receives hate and fear… Christine Daae pitied him, though… and id anyone doubts his soul, they should view his home…" Ludivine pulled away and sat on the white leather chaise, Meg following suit. "I at least kept my promise – I didn't go looking for him," Ludivine stated.

"Yes, that's true. And since I've been to his home… heard my mother's story… heard his cries of despair… I can understand how you feel about him. Not a creature to hate, but a man to admire for his genius and his poetic soul. I will not condemn you, nor keep you from him. I will, however, warn you – when things do not go his way, he kills and destroys."

"Yet you say he let Mademoiselle Daae and Monsieur le Vicomte go free?" Ludivine asked, confused.

"He loved Christine and realized she could not be happy with him."

"SO there is a chance that she changed him?"

"Perhaps… nothing has truly happened since that incident, so it is possible… however, I myself am more cautious than others, having been Christine's friend at that time. I do wish you the best, however. No doubt he has discovered that you are not Christine, though his obsession and love was so great that he will undoubtedly return to you, for your voice is remarkably similar to that of hers." Ludivine looked at the dancer, and Meg took her hands in her own in a sign of friendship. "I do wish you happiness."

"Thankyou Meg," Ludivine smiled. "This means so much to me… but what will the others think?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell a soul… well besides my mother, if you wish."

"What is your mother's story, by the way?" Meg then proceeded to tell Ludivine all she knew about the one whom the dauars call the Phantom of the Opera and who calls himself the Opera Ghost, beginning with her mother's rescuing him from the Gypsy Carnivale. She explained his genius, how he had once, as an adolescent, built a palace of mirrors for the Shah of Persia. Ludivine just stared, wide-eyed and amazed, as the whole true story, much more fantastic than the legend, was laid before her. After Meg finished her explanation, the two sat in silence for some time, Ludivine pondering everything that had been told to her. "Well, that certainly explains many of the things that have happened," Ludivine stated thoughtfully. A knock on the door startled both of them, and they jumped. Meg went to the door and, without opening it, asked who was on the other side. It was Monsieur Firmin.

"Mademoiselle Giry, we are in need of you and Mademoiselle Juliette – rehearsal has begun, and Ludivine's measurements must be taken."

Meg glanced back at Ludivine, who was still in the couch, and observed Aminita's costume which seemed to be a perfect fit.

"As far as measurements go, I think we have them already."

"Whatever do you mean, Mademoiselle Giry?" Firmin questioned.

"She fits Christine Daae's costume perfectly!" Meg chirped.

"Well then… that is definitely an advantage for us. We still need to rehearse, however…" Meg smiled and glanced back at Ludivine.

"Of course, Monsieur, we will be out shortly!" She said, ever cheerful. "Come - we must establish your role as leading lady? She ran back gaily and took Ludivine's hand. They ran, giggling, to the door. However, as Meg opened it, Ludivine shrunk away from the sliver of light that now penetrated the dim lighting in the room. "Well? Come on!" Meg said. As she was led from the room, Ludivine raised a hand to the level of her eyes, but it was to shield herself from the harsh light, not and unseen attacker.

Far below the Opera House, the man – the Phantom of the Opera – had stopped his furious playing. He now was huddled on the steps to the water surrounding his lair; his knees pulled to his chest, his hands, which cradled his face, rested on his knees. He did not cry, as all his tears had left him already. His mind was blank; his depression had grown so great. That voice… it should be a sin for anyone to have a voice so like Christine's… It reminded him of Christine's voice towards the latter part of their lessons. It was beautiful, yet it still had a few slight imperfections, all of which could be easily remedied within a few short lessons…

Of course – that was it!

Why hadn't he thought of it before? This was just the opportunity he needed, something to get his mind occupied and out of his depressing. He could five this young woman voice lessons. He would avoid getting too attached this time, however. She would be simply a student, no matter how much she sounded like Christine Daae. Pleased with his decision, he rose and straightened himself up. Tonight, he would begin the young woman's lessons. _Tonight, _he though as he listened to the rehearsal above; _Tonight, I will redeem myself…_


End file.
